


Long Shadows and Walker Brains

by sherstrader



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Coming Out, Dysphoria, FTM Daryl, Gen, Gender Dysphoria, Kinda, Merle is a Good Brother, Misgendering, Scars, Shane Being an Asshole, Slurs, Trans, Trans Character, Trans Daryl, Trans Male Character, Transphobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-17
Updated: 2016-05-17
Packaged: 2018-06-08 22:46:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6877921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sherstrader/pseuds/sherstrader
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'Merle turns to look at his younger brother, “the dead are walkin’ the streets, man, you really think anyones gonna care that you ain’t got a dick?” He whispers.</p><p>Daryl grimaces and turns his head away from him, “yep.”'</p><p>***</p><p>Daryl is in desperate need of some personal hygiene and can't seem to find any privacy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Long Shadows and Walker Brains

**Author's Note:**

> This contains a trans slur, and some misgendering.

“You fuckin’ stink, lil’ brother.” Merle comments to Daryl on his way back from a hunting trip. Three separate people had cornered him in camp and told him that Daryl needed to wash, and soon. Merle had grumbled and called them weak city folk, but smelling Daryl now… they were right. He smells like a walker that’s been rotting in the sun for weeks on end. Daryl swerves to avoid him.

“Fuck off.” He mumbles angrily, speeding up walking. 

Merle sighs and goes after him, whispering “come on, we’ve gotta make these people comfortable with us if we’re gonna rob ‘em good.” 

Daryl stops and sighs, looking down at the ground. “I can’t, man.”

Merle racks his brain for reasons why his brother wouldn’t be able to wash and comes up short, “why the fuck not? There’s a perfectly good quarry right there Darlina.”

Daryl gives him an exasperated look before stomping away, “that’s why, you fuckin’ prick.”

“Man, I’m sorry, Y’know I didn’t mean it-“ Merle tries to apologise.

“Fuck you.” Daryl throws the words over his shoulder and walks angrily into the forest. Merle leans against the nearest tree, knowing he has to make amends when Daryl gets back.

It’s a few hours later that Daryl finally emerges out of the tree line and back into the camp, he takes the long way around to their tent and drops a couple of squirrels about a metre from where Merle is sat having a smoke. 

“You want me to sort these out?” Merle asks, trying to be as polite as possible. He points at the squirrels. 

Daryl frowns down at the ground, still refusing to make eye contact, “nah, it’s fine.”

Merle stubs out his cigarette, “you look beat, I’ll do it.”

Daryl grunts in acceptance and Merle gets out his knife to start butchering the small animals. It won’t provide much meat, but it’s better than nothing. Daryl sits down next to him, Merle can hear him sigh and take a long drink from his water bottle. 

“I didn’t mean what I called you earlier, y’know that right? I wasn’t thinkin’.” Merle apologises sincerely. Or, what he hopes sounds sincerely. 

There’s a long pause before Daryl replies, “you haven’t called me that for a while.” He speaks quietly. 

 

Merle nods, for a moment he puts his knife down and looks around the camp. There are children running around, playing tag like the world hasn’t ended. Tents neatly set up next to each other. It’s like a fuckin’ Boy Scout camp. It’s a million miles from what their lives were like before.  
“There’s no goddamn privacy here.” 

Merle turns to look at his younger brother, “the dead are walkin’ the streets, man, you really think anyones gonna care that you ain’t got a dick?” He whispers.

Daryl grimaces and turns his head away from him, “yep.”

Merle thinks and then hums in agreement, he knows what people are like in Georgia when they find out about people like Daryl. Hell, he used to be one of those people. “Tell y’what. I’ll go with you, stand guard, and if any of these stupid city slickers says anything outa line I’ll knock their goddamn teeth in.”

Daryl chuckles, “how we gonna rob ‘em blind if you’ve knocked someones teeth in?”

“Don’t matter. I’ll work something out.” 

A deep breath, “yeah, okay.” Daryl commits reluctantly. 

“Tomorrow?” 

“Yeah, tomorrow.”

Except it doesn’t happen tomorrow, and it doesn’t happen the day after that because Merle gets dragged into a trip to Atlanta and trapped on a roof. And it doesn’t happen the day after that because Daryl treks into the city to try and find him, to no avail. And by the time he gets back from that the stench has gotten bad. Real bad. 

So, that’s how Daryl finds himself risking life and limb wading out into the water of the quarry in the middle of the night. It’s been a few days since the trip to Atlanta, and he couldn’t physically stand it any longer. He needs to wash away the walker guts and sweat and anger. The water’s cold and refreshing on his skin. 

He lathers the unused bar of soap that old man Dale gave him on his first day here, his hands slide over the bumps of his top surgery scars. He wonders if they’ve faded any more since the last time he looked in a mirror. It’s been a while. 

For a second he thinks longingly about the tube of expensive scar cream that’s probably still sat in his old bedroom. He quickly tries to put the thoughts out of his mind. There’s no point wishing for things they used to have. There’s just no point, and there’s no point freaking out about Merle being gone, sans right hand. That tough son of a bitch is still alive, Daryl knows somehow. 

A noise from the forest breaks him out of his thoughts, it sounds like footsteps. A little too quick to be a walker heading his way, but it could be anyone. He moves to the shallows, as quickly and as quietly as possible, and locates the his gun he’d on top of a rock. He points it to where he heard the footsteps approaching from and waits, trying to focus and not think about how he’s bare ass naked and exposed for all to see.

Two flashlights become visible, overpowering the dim moonlight and casting long shadows over the quarry, followed by two voices. Daryl recognises Shane’s voice, and the other voice he thinks must be the new guy, Rick. The guy who locked Merle on the roof. 

“-Glenn said he went this way, guy never goes down to the quarry though. Dunno why he’d be comin’ this way”

“Shit.” Daryl whispers, looking around for his clothes which were strewn along the grass near the quarry. If he gets out of the water to put them back on they’ll definitely see him. If he stays in the water they might-

“Hey, what’s that?” He hears Rick say, and notices the torch light pointed in his direction. 

He sighs and waits for a second before stepping into their line of sight, he raises a hand weakly to greet them, the other hand cupping his crotch. “It’s me.” The two men put their guns down and walk over to the bank of the quarry, standing over him. Daryl feels threatened.

Shane speaks up, “man, you shy or somethin’?” he motions down to where Daryl’s hand covers his privates.

Daryl narrows his eyes, “fuck off.” 

Shane goes to retaliate but Rick touches his shoulder to stop him and speaks first, “what you doing down here in the middle of the night? Y’had Glenn worried.” 

Daryl looks away, trying to avoid Rick’s eye contact. He knows Glenn had been on watch tonight, but had thought he’d been able to evade his sight when leaving camp. “What it look like I’m doing?” He holds up the bar of soap so they can see. 

Rick nods, “well, ya shouldn’t be down here when it’s pitch black. It ain’t safe. From what I hear, you’re real valuable to us, your hunting has kept these people fed.”

Daryl coughs and feels uncomfortable with Rick’s praise. Man barely knows him, doesn’t know what him and his brother planned to do to these people at the first opportunity. 

Shane apparently can’t keep his mouth shut for another second, he motions to Daryl’s chest “what those scars from, man? Y’get stabbed up?” 

Daryl bristles, “somethin’ like that.”

There’s suddenly lot of tension in the air, probably still hanging there from when Shane had Daryl in a choke hold a few days before. There’s silence for a few moments, Rick coughs, it’s obvious that Shane is still staring at Daryl’s chest. 

“Ya wanna take a picture or somethin’?” Daryl asks sarcastically. Shane puts his hands up in defeat and looks away. Daryl starts biting his thumbnail nervously. 

There’s another deafening silence before Rick speaks, “why don’t you put your clothes back on and walk back to camp with us? I’m sure Glenn’ll be relieved to see you safe and sound.” 

Daryl sighs and nods, he returns to the rock to retrieve his gun before wading back towards the side of the quarry with his clothes on. As he’s about to climb up he hears a rustling in the bushes and before he has time to ready himself a walker falls through the shrubs and onto the floor half a metre away from him, it quickly notices him and starts crawling towards him. He forgets about covering his crotch and raises his hand to hold the walker’s head down while he slams the butt of the gun into it’s skull. Once. Twice. It stops moving with the sickening squelch of a third strike of the gun. 

When Daryl looks up at the other two men and see’s them staring between his legs he realises what’s happened. “For fuck’s sake.” He speaks quietly, before pulling himself up onto the grass. He doesn’t meet their eyes as he starts putting his clothes back on. He puts his underwear and pants back on first, averting their greedy eyes. “Fuckin’ knew this would happen.” He comments to himself. 

Rick coughs and looks away, he looks uncomfortable and confused. Daryl buttons up his shirt and slides his dirty boots on before standing up. It’s then that he notices the smirk on Shane’s face. 

Daryl steps towards him, squaring up. “Somethin’ funny to you?” He asks defensively. 

Shane sneers, “now I can see why you're shy. You some kinda pussyboy?”

Daryl pauses, taking a deep breath before reacting. He imagines Merle. He pictures him standing tall above Shane and knocking all of his teeth out with ease. With that inspiration he swings, hitting Shane dead on the nose. There’s a satisfying crunch and man goes down like a bag of bricks. Daryl thinks about getting on top of him and going in for a few more punches, but sees the shock in Rick’s eyes and knows the message was loud and clear. He stalks off into the forest and heads back towards camp.


End file.
